Captaincy
by Julia Claire
Summary: What with Charlie leaving, unsupportive parents, a young, less-than-respectful team, the Weasley twins, and having to find a new Seeker, being a captain is harder than Wood thought. Wood/Quidditch. I own nothing.
1. The Badge

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be._

Chapter 1

The Badge

At five in the morning, even August could be hard to discern from December. It was dark and dreary, and hardly anyone was even awake. Even the most notable Quidditch have not risen. Viktor Krum, the incredible but, as of yet, still relatively unknown Seeker, was still sleeping. Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, never stirred until ten. Charlie Weasley has never woken up at five to play Quidditch in his life, despite being one of the most talented Quidditch players that Hogwarts has ever seen.

Oliver Wood, on the other hand, hasn't slept in past five during the summer holidays since he was twelve.

****

It was raining hard and there might have even been lightning, but Wood didn't care. He didn't pay attention to things as mundane as weather_._Charlie Weasley was Wood's idol, but even so, Oliver hated it when Quidditch practice would be canceled because of the weather. This hadn't happen often; they had played through most conditions (to the rest of team's disgust), but Wood still felt that they could have practiced _more_. He remembered pestering Charlie about this so much on one Saturday when practice had been canceled, that Charlie had gotten up from his seat in the Gryffindor common room and dragged him over to a window.

"Look, Wood," Charlie had said, stabbing his finger out the glass pane. "It's like the Hagrid of all thunderstorms out there. What are we going to do it weather like that?"

Wood had just looked at him for a moment, and then said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Play Quidditch."

Charlie had moaned then, and sank to the ground with his head in his hands.

"If you don't want to go out, then that's fine, but at least let me-"

"No," said Charlie in a muffled voice; his head was still in his hands.

"But Charlie-" Wood had started again, almost physically unable to let the matter drop.

"If you say one more word about having Quidditch practice today or kill yourself trying to fly out there, you're off the team, and I am dead serious, mate, hear?"

Wood hadn't said anything to that, because while he had finally gotten the point (despite the fact that there was something lacking in Charlie's logic) he was also physically unable to utter a sentence that didn't use the word _Quidditch. _It had been kind of hard to find something to do indoors on a Saturday, but Wood had managed in the end. He'd found some new Keeper moves in an old library book.

He shook his head. It was essential that was absolutely focused on flying his broom right now. He had a lot of training to do.

"Oliver!" his mother called about four hours later, sticking her head out the front door. Actually, she had to call it more than once, very loudly, in order to make herself heard over all the wind. Finally, he heard her, though, and, only because his body did require food, landed. He entered the house, placed his broom down almost reverently, and walked into the kitchen. He was about to grab a plate of the waffles his father had made and take a seat at the table with his parents when his mother looked up at him.

"Out," she ordered, "Oliver, I will not have you in my kitchen like this. You're wet and muddy and," she glanced at his feet incredulously, "You didn't even bother to take your shoes off! Go change!"

"But Mum," he protested, " I'm just going to go right back out-"

"_You're just going to go right back out_?" she said, her voice rising, "Oliver, you've been out there since five in the bloody morning!"

Wood winced; his mother hardly ever swore, even though they did get into a lot of rows. His dad turned a page of his newspaper, completely ignoring the war that was erupting in his kitchen. "Look, Mum, I've got to practice! It's almost the end of the summer, and that means the season's going to start! Gryffindor hasn't won the Cup in ages, and Charlie Weasley left last year!"

"Exactly," she said, pointing her wand with unnecesary force at the waffle iron, which instantly began to clean itself. "It's the end of the summer, and I feel like I've hardly seen you! You rise before dawn and you're out there until midnight! It's the most obsessive, rigid, one-man training I've ever heard of, and you're only fifteen!"

"I'll be sixteen in November!"

"Like that matters!" she said, exasperated, "You're not a professional Quidditch player, and even if you were, I'd still say you were training too much."

"I know I'm not a professional," he argued, ignoring the last bit of what she'd said. There was no such thing as _too much _Quidditch. Not for him, anyway. "But I want to be, and if I don't train, I never will be!"

"I know you want to play professionally," she said tiredly, "And I know you want your team to do well this year. I get all that. I'm not asking you to stop practicing completely. I just want you to cut down on it some. Come on, even you have to admit that this has gotten to be a bit much."

She looked at him, seeming to realize even as she said it that he'd never agree. "NO!" he roared, "CHARLIE WEASLEY-"

"Oh, I'm sure Charlie Weasley didn't practice every second," she snapped.

"Well, he had brothers to play with, didn't he? I'm all by myself," he said, then forced a laugh, "Heck, I reckon, I reckon just having Fred and George as brothers on the ground is good enough conditioning for anybody."

His mother ignored his small attempt at humor, "See? You even admit it yourself! You've told me that Charlie could end up playing for England, and even he didn't train as much!"

"But-"

"No buts," she said firmly, "Think about it. You're going to get hurt one day, overexerting yourself like this, and then you won't be able to play at all!"

"I'm not going to get hurt!" he said hotly, although inwardly he admitted that she could have a point, "You don't understand-"

"You're right," she yelled, flaring up once more,"I don't bloody understand! You-"

"Karen, give it a rest," his dad said, at last looking up from his newspaper, "Oliver, you're training too much, got it, bud? It's too much. You're either out there, or else you're reading books about it. From now on, you're going to limit yourself to your morning session only, and instead of training in the afternoon, you're to spend that time with your mother and me, or else getting some homework done."

Wood sighed. His dad might not yell or argue with his son as much as his wife, but when he did lay down the law, Oliver knew he had to listen. Angrily, he sat down at the table and began to stuff his face with waffles. His mother took the seat next to him, still red in the face and looking almost as peeved as Wood. They ate in a stony silence until Wood's father put down his newspaper again and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you two. Get over it," he said, sliding an envelope across the table to Wood, "Forgot to give this to you earlier. I reckon it's your Hogwarts letter."

Wood continued to eat, ignoring both the letter and his father.

"Oliver-" his father said in the quiet voice that always inspired more obedience in Wood than his mother's shouts.

"Fine," he said, grabbing the letter off the table and just barely managing to keep himself from asking why the hell his father cared about his booklist. He wasn't a wizard, and couldn't have told the difference between the book Wood needed for Transfiguration and _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_.

The moment he ripped open the envelope, however, all the animosity he felt towards both of his parents disappeared. A scarlet and gold badge had fallen out and fluttered to the ground. At first, he was confused, because even though it was his fifth year, surely McGonagall would never make _him _a prefect? Then he realized what it was. All summer, he had obsessed over the fact that Charlie Weasley had graduated and Gryffindor needed a new Seeker. He never realized that they needed something else as well.

"I'm- I'm Quiddith Captain," he said, then laughed, full of sheer joy. Quidditch Captain. No one would be able to cancel _his _practice, not anymore. He jumped and yelled and even grabbed his broom and did lap around the living room. He felt as if he were on the top of the world. It was what he had always wanted.

Then he remembered that his parents were still in the kitchen, and realized that they must be ready to murder him. It was hard to care when he had _that_ badge in his hand, but still, he really didn't want to die before he got to be Captain.

"Sorry, Mum," he said, reentering the kitchen and putting his broom away again. "Sorry, Dad. It's just-"

"Oh, Oliver," his mother said, crossing the kitchen and giving him a hug, "I still think you need to cut down and all, but- I'm so proud of you."

"So am I," his father grinned, then added under his breath, "I just wish you played a sport I understood. I always liked football..."

* * *

_Hey all,_

_I really shouldn't be writing this, as I have two other ongoing fics that I absolutely NEED to update, but I couldn't help it. This idea just hit while I was watching the first movie the other night. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but it just got longer and longer.... I have the whole thing written now, though, save the very end. It should be about five chapters, depending on where I decide to split it. I'll probably update once a week, every Friday or Saturday. I hope you enjoy it. (And by the way, I listed it as Oliver/Quidditch in the summary as a sort of figurative joke. Sorry to disappoint anyone who expected a really wild fic in which Wood starts snogging a broom.... although I suppose he does come fairly close in the next chapter.) Anyway, thanks for reading!_

_-Julie Claire-_


	2. The Weasleys

Chapter 2

The Weasleys

"Oi, Wood!"

Wood didn't answer, as he had barely even registered the fact that someone was calling his name. He was too busy looking at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He was in Diagon Alley with his mother, shopping for the things he needed for school. As books, potion ingredients, and new robes did not interest him much, Oliver had been getting quite bored, and he suspected that his whining had started to annoy his mother, because she told him he could go check out Quality Quidditch Supplies while she finished up. He ended up not even entering the store, so floored by what was being displayed in its window.

The new Nimbus Two Thousand was sleek and its mahogany handle shone. Supposedly, it was the fastest broom on the market, and Wood couldn't deny that he would sell his soul for one. He knew that his mother would probably sooner let him sell his soul, though, then buy him one. His Cleansweep 7 was a good broom, and he liked it immensely, but the Nimbus-

"Oliver! We were calling you, didn't you hear us?" one of the Weasley twins- Wood could never tell them apart- shouted jovially in his left ear, interrupting his thoughts.

"Earth to Wood," the other twin said, waving a hand in his face.

"Yeah, I heard you," Wood grunted, although he hadn't exactly, "Did you ever consider that I was ignoring you on purpose?"

"Nope," the one on his left said gleefully, "George and I are absolutely charming, and I can't think of a single reason why anyone in their right mind would pass up a chance to chat with us."

"Well, we all knew Oliver was insane, didn't we?" Charlie Weasley grinned, coming up from behind his younger brothers. He turned to them as he added, "Though I don't think anyone would be considered right in the head under that condition. I definitely wouldn't, anyway...."

Wood laughed. "So what's up?"

"The sky," the one on his left- Fred, apparently- said, and even his twin groaned.

"Mum's at Madame Malkin's getting robes for Ron-" George began.

"Is he starting at Hogwarts this year?" Wood asked.

"Yep," Fred replied, "And anyway, apparently we were bothering the air around the Precious Prefect-"

"Percy," Charlie explained.

"He's a prefect?" Wood asked, although he wasn't not really surprised. The third Weasley brother was in Wood's year, although Oliver had always been closer to his brothers.

"Yeah," Fred said, "He's been lording it over us since he got the badge. Like any of us care."

"So Fred and I thought that we'd play a harmless joke on our _dear_ brother-"

"They took his Prefect badge and used a Permanent Sticking Charm to glue it to the back of his head," Charlie said flatly, although his lips twitched. "Right in the middle of Madame Malkin's."

"So Mum and Percy went berserk, and then Madame Malkins got kind of upset 'cause we were 'causing a ruckus' in her shop, and then our dear sweet Mum disciplined us in her normal fashion, which involves the use of her surprisingly powerful vocal chords, and told Charlie to take us out of there," Fred grinned.

"Which was a bit stupid on her part," George remarked, "Seeing as Charlie is pretty much always on our side, especially if we're bothering Percy."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked, pretending to be offended. "I disciplined you, didn't I?"

"You managed to keep a straight face just long enough to get away from Mum, and then you sat down in front of the apothecary and laughed," Fred told him, grinning at Wood, "Like ten minutes later, after you'd recovered, you said you'd buy us something from Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour."

"Well, I reckon Mum's discipline doesn't have an affect on you, so it's time to try a new method," Charlie said, "You want to come get some ice cream, Oliver?"

Wood cast one last look of longing at the broom in the window, then nodded.

"So how did Percy get the badge out of his hair?" he asked as he followed the three Weasleys.

"As far as I know, he didn't," Fred told him, "It _was_a Permanant Sticking Charm."

"Mum will be able to get it off someway, though," George said gloomily, "We're not that powerful."

They entered the crowded ice cream parlour and took seats at the counter. Fred and Charlie ordered chocolate cones, George got vanilla, and Wood asked for strawberry.

"Strawberry?" Fred asked disgustedly.

"It's good."

"It's _pink_," he responded, as though that settled it.

"You'd better not mess with Oliver, Fred," Charlie warned, paying Mr. Fortescue for the ice creams, "He's your new Captain now. If he lets you back on the team, that it."

Fred just shrugged. "Oliver'd never-" he stopped, his eyes lighting up as he spotted someone at one of the back tables, "George, look!" he said gleefully, "It's Marcus Flint!"

"Where?"

"Over there- no, there!"

"Excellent!" George said, a slow grin spreading across his face. Charlie and Wood rolled their eyes.

"How'd you find out?" Wood asked Charlie, suprised that they'd all seemed to know.

"It was obvious, wasn't it?" Charlie said, bemused. "Anna and Sarah graduated last year, and all the other returning players are third years. Besides, I knew McGonagall wasn't going to give it to either of these bozos," he indicated his two younger brothers, who were taking turns making Flint's ice cream cone float away from him every time he took a bite. The shop was so crowded that Flint hadn't realized who was doing it yet, but he kept looking around angrily, and Wood felt sure that it was only a matter of time. Even for someone with Flint's I.Q., the Weasleys were hard to miss.

"You're going to have your work cut out for you this year," Charlie said, biting into the cone.

"I know," Wood answered enthusiastically, glad to have a chance to talk about Quidditch, "We're going to be a really young team. So far it's me, Fred, George, Angelina- and Alicia, I suppose. She was a reserve last year. So that's one fifth-year, and four third-years."

"It'll work out, though, especially in a few years, and age isn't anything anyway."

"I suppose. I don't know where I'm going to find a third Chaser, though, and a new Seeker," Wood said. He has forgotten about his ice cream, which was now dripping onto the counter.

Charlie looked wistful. "I wish I could play another year. I don't know if I could survive the N.E.W.T.s again, though, but still... I'll miss the Quidditch matches."

"Aren't you going to play for England or something?" Wood asked. He'd always reckoned that's what Charlie was going to do.

He laughed. "Merlin, no. I did get a few offers- just asking me to try-out, mind- but I turned 'em down. I love Quidditch, but it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I'm leaving for Romania on the second of September, going to work with dragons."."

Wood couldn't believe that someone as talented as Charlie Weasley would choose dragons over Quidditch, but he never got a chance to ask him about it. Flint had just realized who his tormentors were, and Wood reckoned he better get Fred and George out of Florian Fortescue's before he had to find two new Beaters for his Quidditch team.


	3. The Team

Chapter 3

The Team 

"... and then you'd fly over here, and Alicia would stay in the middle, and the third Chaser would be on the other side," Wood said, pointing his finger at all the different spots on his wriggling diagram, "And Fred, you'd have to stay over _here_, and George would take the opposite side so that-"

"Oliver," Fred interrupted lazily from the other end of the compartment, where he was building an Exploding Snap card house with George, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan, "You know none of us are listening, don't you?"

"Shut up and pay attention then!"

"Bu it's not even Quidditch season yet!" George protested.

Angelina looked up from the game. "It's our last little bit of summer! Just let us relax, yeah?"

"This_ is _relaxing!"

"No, it's not," Fred said, "I feel like I'm in Binns's class already."

"Ha ha," Wood said sourly, as the rest of them laughed. "At least just let me finish showing you this chart..."

"No," said Lee flatly, "None of that stuff is any use to me anyway, and you all will have plenty of time to go over your thousand or so game plans at practice."

"Lovely," George muttered.

Ignoring this, Oliver turned to Lee, "Of course it's some use to you! You commentate all the matches, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm the commentator, but I don't really say, 'Oh, look, Gryffindor now running The Play That Takes About Twenty Minutes To Explain-'"

"The Willington Formation," Oliver growled. It was a pet peeve of his when people got Quidditch terms mixed up.

"Yeah, that," Lee continued easily, "What I say is more like, 'Oh, look, Fred- or George- just hit a Bludger!' or 'Angelina has the Quaffle; why won't she go out with me?'"

He turned to grin at her, and she gave him a playful shove.

Fred rolled his eyes. "When are you two going to stop with that joke?"

"When she realizes that I am the most brilliant bloke to ever walk the earth," Lee said, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

"I don't get it," Wood sighed as the others all laughed. He really wanted to finish showing them his diagrams, but he also hated not being in on other people's jokes.

"This girl in our year, Elizabeth, was like, convinced last year that Lee was in love with Angelina, but she wouldn't have him. I dunno where she even got the idea, really, but she was dead set on it being true, and she wouldn't shut up about it for months," Alicia said very fast. She had always been a big talker; Wood remembered that from the one game she played with them last year. He reckoned that the only reason she hadn't complained with the rest of them about hearing all the Quidditch plays was that she didn't want to get on the bad side of the Gryffindor Quidditch captain before she was officially on the team.

"Anyway, she finally figured out that she was wrong, which was kind of a miracle, actually, because Elizabeth never thinks she's wrong," Angelina smiled, and Wood laughed.

"Don't encourage them, Oliver," Fred said wearily, "It _was _funny, I admit, but by now the two of them," he indicated Lee and Angelina, "Have pretty much killed the joke. Murdered it, in fact. But from the way they go on about it, you'd think it was the funniest thing since... since..."

"Us?" George offered.

"Yeah," said Fred, "Since us, and nobody is funnier than the Weasley twins. Smarter, maybe, but not funnier."

"Well, I'm both," Angelina said, "And I saw you laughing, and Lee, Alicia, and Oliver will back me up. Right?"

Lee and Alicia nodded.

"Nope," Oliver shook his head. "Sorry, but, come on, you guys, this is stupid. We need to go over the plays-"

"I thought we established you'd have time in practice to go over them, and that it was cruel and unusual punishment for me, because I'd never need to know them," Lee said.

"You don't think you'll ever comment on the way we're executing certain plays?"

"No, I stick to talking about who has the Quaffle, the Snitch, or the Bludger. If we're doing badly or the other team's cheating, I do tend to get a bit more creative, but that never lasts long, because McGonagall always tries to take the megaphone away."

Wood fought the urge to laugh. "Okay, so you'll never use any of this stuff. The rest of them all want to hear it. So can't you just-"

"The rest of us don't want to hear it either," Fred pointed out, placing a card on the top of the card house.

"You need to hear it, then," Wood said hotly. "We're a young team and we don't even have enough Chasers or a Seeker yet. All the other teams have years more experience than us. All this stuff is probably common knowledge to _them_."

"If this is common knowledge to anyone, then I'm a flobberworm," George muttered, but his brother shushed him.

"I reckon you're right, Wood," Fred said, "I do want us to be good this year, and it is going to be hard without Charlie."

"Exactly," Wood said, a bit surprised that Fred is suddenly agreeing with him. The other four looked shocked as well, especially George.

"Fred!" Angelina complained, "What are you agreeing with him for? We're busy with this!"

"I know," he said, looking at the card house "So why don't we finish it up, and then we can talk about Quidditch... C'mon, Wood, you can help."

"How long will it take to finish the house?" Wood asked. He didn't play Exploding Snap much and was a bit wary. Perhaps he was agreeing to play for hours.

"Not long at all," Fred grinned, handing him a card. "Put it down, now, and get close, you've got to be careful or the whole thing will fall down."

There was something evil in the grin. Wood could see that, although he couldn't put his finger on exactly what Fred was manipulating him into. He felt extremely stupid later, though. It had been obvious what was about to happen. He'd taken something that Fred Weasley had given him and used it, placed it on top of all the cards, so of course it blew up in his face.

As Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia burst out laughing, Wood reckoned that being a Captain- especially for_ this_ team- was going to be a lot harder than he thought it would be.

* * *

June 8 - Just a note to say that I'm extremely sorry for not updating in so long, especially as the dang thing is already written... on paper, and was supposed to be updated every Saturday. Oops. Still, I hope to post the last two chapters soon!

-Julia


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